The Cross House
Today, Cary Grant arrived at the Cross House.
Previously, I alluded to his visit, and am thrilled that Mr. Grant has now stepped over the threshold!
OK, so, ah, maybe it’s not really Cary Grant.
Maybe…it…is…Bo! Yes! Bo Sullivan has traveled half-way across the country to document the 1894 wallpapers in the house, no matter that the papers are but fragments and pitiful.
Besides being a historic wallpaper
fiend aficionado, Bo has an extraordinary level of knowledge about Victorian-era architecture and design. While I am kinda at kindergarten level, Bo is a university graduate summa cum laude. I feel a little awestruck in his presence.
Within ten minutes after arriving, Bo figured out a REALLY odd thing about the front doors which has perplexed me for three years. More later!
As it was late, I then took Bo to dinner at Radius, where my favorite waitress brought us pizzas! After an arresting conversation about architecture/history/psychology we walked through the dark night to the Cross House, with many of its stained-glass windows lighted up. A sight I always just gasp at.
Back inside, we walked through the house with our iPhones as flashlights, as many rooms have no lighting. Normally, I am in the house 99% of the time during daylight hours, so this nocturnal tour was, even for me, an adventure!
While standing in the first-floor south hall, I told Bo that he was forbidden to leave until he figured out the mystery of the closet door. He assumed I was kidding.
While on the second floor Bo noticed something small but altogether inexplicable, a something which has wholly escaped my attention. More later!
We also peered our phone flashlights behind radiators asking the same question: Might some fabulous 1894 wallpaper be hidden here or here or here? More later!
I have two more Bo days. And am breathless with excitement and anticipation.
I have published two books. Two books about a lot of really cool and interesting people who died a long time ago.
It is heartbreaking writing about people one yearns to talk with and hug…but cannot.
It is heartbreaking writing about people one yearns to experience…but cannot.
It is heartbreaking writing about a person one yearns to listen to, to their stories as their face crinkles with laughter, as their expressions are animated by passion, and as their eyes are enlivened by a twinkle. But cannot, as the person has been gone for a century or more.
Today, thus, was a rare experience for me. I felt like I was meeting a historical individual, for while I have long read about Bo, and have long emailed Bo, and have long written about Bo, I had not until today met Bo.
As we sat across our table at Radius, eating our pizzas, I felt my heart fill with joy and gratitude that all this was actually happening! Now! In 2017!
Bo’s face crinkled with laughter, his expressions were animated by passion, and his eyes were constantly enlivened by a twinkle.
All across the table from me. In 2017. Now.